


The Crowning

by Blackwolf2019



Series: The Pack survives, the Pack fights [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Political Jon Snow, Political Sansa Stark, Rickon Stark is King in the North, The King in The North, The North Remembers (ASoIaF), Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackwolf2019/pseuds/Blackwolf2019
Summary: Hope you all enjoy the chapter! Feel free tae comment as always!
Relationships: Jon Snow & Rickon Stark, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Rickon Stark & Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & Maester Wolkan
Series: The Pack survives, the Pack fights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990747
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	The Crowning

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy the chapter! Feel free tae comment as always!

Ramsay was still smiling as he was dragged into the Godswood through the bannermen by two of the Free Folk.

His clothes were tattered. Covered in dirt and shit as well from his stay in the dungeon. His ugly face looked even uglier as puss and blood dripped from the gashes across his face that her brother had left him. The stump where his hand once was still looking burnt and like tar. His smell pungent and vile.

But he was still smiling as he was dragged in front of the Weirwood tree.

Dragged in front of her and her brothers. In front of Ghost and Shaggydog that sat watching at hers and Rickon’s feet.

In front of the pack to die.

It made Sansa want to smile too.

 _But that would give him satisfaction._ Sansa thought as she looked at the last scion of House Bolton kneeling in the snow before them.

He looked directly at her and grinned all the wider with his wormy lips.

Sansa noted that there were teeth missing as he began to speak to her.

“It was snowing and freezing when we wed my dear wife. Such a cold day. Made it all the better to get warm with you in your chambers.”

Sansa heard Shaggy dog snarl at that. She felt her brave little brother Rickon try to move forward towards Ramsay before she gently put a hand behind him to stop him.

“I feel quite warm Ramsay Snow. But then again if I remember rightly the pipes from the hot springs don’t go down to the dungeon.” Sansa retorted calmly.

Ramsay’s grin faltered for a second. _Still has that chip on his shoulder._

“My name is Bolton, the same as yours dear wife.” Ramsay replied quickly as he tried to brush off the insult.

“The name of a soon to be extinct House. No heirs, no titles and no words. All to be lost to the annals of history. Remembered only as a warning.” Sansa replied coldly.

Ramsay shook his head with his vile grin. “I’ll be a part of you forever.”

Sansa felt herself stiffen at the comment for all of a moment before his answer was met with the free folk pushing him down aggressively onto a wooden block and a bloodied rag being shoved in his mouth.

“He’s spoken enough.” Jon said calmly, all eyes in the Godswood turning towards her brother, including hers and Rickon’s.

Her eldest brother looked truly intimidating as he stared at Ramsay. Stern and unmoving in the snow as his grey eyes looked grimly at the monster that had sacked their home. She’d never seen Father execute someone but imagined this would be how he would stand before someone that deserved to die.

 _Though this death might not be quite what Father would do._ Sansa noted to herself, watching Lord Wull and Whoresbane Umber hand Jon two axes as one of Tormund’s sons ran a knife harshly up the back of Ramsay’s tunic. Harsh enough to leave a trail of blood as the tunic fell off. She heard a faint grunt and laugh from her husband come from the rag.

Jon didn’t seem perturbed by the laugh as he took his place behind Ramsay, facing the Weirwood tree and his siblings. There wasn’t a hint of emotion on her brother’s face as he gripped both axes and began the slow process of pulling the ribs out of her husband’s body whilst the Free Folk continued to hold him. The muffled laughing stopped immediately as soon as the axes hit the ribs, turning it to painful grunts and eventually screams as two ribs were bloodily removed from the spine and body.

Sansa gripped Rickon’s hand to keep the two still and solemn as the two of them watched their brother calmly flick the blood drenched ribs down onto the snow. Ramsay screaming and biting into the increasingly bloodied rag. She could see some of the bannermen’s reaction too that were behind her brother. She could see lord Cerwyn and Lady Talhart try not to flinch. She could see Lord Ryswell and Robbet Glover go pale at the sight. She could see the Mountain clans, Umbers and Free Folk calm. In a bold contrast, Lady Dustin had a face similar to Cersei’s whenever she had to hide her glee. But that shouldn’t surprise her, Ramsay had killed her nephew according to Roose Bolton.

 _House Bolton has harmed most Northern houses here in some way._ Sansa knew. From Mormonts in the West to the Manderlys in the East. All had suffered by the Red Wedding. There were to be no shouts for this punishment to be cut short as Jon put the axes into the bloodied ground. Ramsay was still screaming into the rag. Still breathing. Pulling the ribs out was a mess but Jon had clearly been precise not to do anything that would kill him too early.

 _He did not give any of us mercy._ Sansa thought darkly, listening to screams turn to heavy, pained breaths as she gripped her little brother’s hand tighter.

It was at that point where Jon took his gloves off and quickly put his arms into the gaping wounds he had created, pulling the lungs of a monster slowly into the open world. Ramsay’s skin turned a deathly pale in shock at what was happening. Sansa could see the absence of joy and only pain in those dirty ice eyes as her brother finished putting the lungs over the last Bolton’s shoulders.

Soon to be headless shoulders as Jon stepped to Ramsay’s side and unsheathed Longclaw. The Valyrian steel seemed to cut through the Snow as Jon rose it above his head and swiftly took the head from the body. A face in permanent pain fell into the snow. _You loved pain. May it keep_

It was a brutal punishment to witness. A slower and much more drawn out way to die than the beheadings which were most common in the North and by the First Men. But this Punishment was a part of the North, below and beyond the wall, for the worst traitors and criminals to face. And Ramsay was one of the worst ones. The one that had done so much damage alongside his Father.

Sansa would have just fed him to his own hounds if it weren’t the way of the North. One had to pass the sentence with their own hands. Leaving kennels open to a bunch of dogs was not holding the sword. It was too easy to just walk away. Too easy to say it was the hounds that killed him much like a headsman. It would have looked poor for herself, Jon and Rickon if the bannermen had found Ramsay had died like that.

 _It would have lacked conviction._ The Northern voice said firmly as Jon sheathed his sword before taking a cloth from one of the guards to clean his bloodied hands. Her brother looked unperturbed by what he had done, though his grey eyes looked at both Rickon and her with concern. Sansa knew it was more for Rickon though. Jon knew well enough that she was more than satisfied to see Ramsay die as he had.

Jon slowly sheathed the sword and kneeled before her and Rickon.

“What should I have done with the remains my King?” Jon asked her brother.

 _I’m so sorry you had to witness this Rickon._ Sansa lamented as she turned to her youngest brother who had been so brave and hadn’t looked away. He looked pale but steady. It helped somewhat that her brother could remember the fires at Winterfell when it was sacked. He could remember hiding in the crypts because his own home was unsafe. He knew enough to know that this man had hurt her. It meant that he knew this moment was a just one.

It was just cruel that Rickon had to witness all this. That it was necessary. The North understood a child could not pass the sentence physically but after the age of eight it was expected to witness executions. All the more so for the nine years old boy who was to be officially King in the North tonight. It made this necessary. Much like her eldest brother kneeling before a child to show where the authority lay. Rickon took a deep breath to steady himself further. Just as Jon and her had told him before on the morning. Just as Jon had when he had executed Theon.

“Burn the body with his banners brother. And have the head spiked for a moon’s turn.” Rickon said slowly and clearly. Loud enough for all the banners to hear.

Sansa could see the pride in Jon’s eyes as he nodded at his little brother. “As my King commands.”

And with that Jon rose to begin the process of cleaning up the mess as the bannermen took one last look before slowly leaving the Godswood.

Sansa took one last look at the corpse of her former husband. They almost looked like the wings of a bird in an odd sort of way.

 _They all called you a bird once._ The Northern voice said calmly in her head.

 _But I am a wolf._ Sansa responded with a small hint of smile as she looked at the body for one more moment before walking away with her brother.

 _Aye, that you are. That you are._ The Northern voice said proudly as the snow continued to fall on proud Stark Colours.

*

The last time Sansa had seen the Great Hall of Winterfell full had been King’s Robert’s visit to Winterfell. That had been a grand affair. Albeit a one filled with Southern nobles and courtiers. Sansa was too young to realise that it was the court invading the North and dragging it back into the politics of the realm. A time when if anyone had known what was truly going on in the South House Stark would have had its Lords present at the feast as a show of strength.

This feast was a truly Northern affair with no Lord being from below the Neck. There was much less formality. Much louder. Much less extravagant and there was a sense of comradery that one did not find genuinely in the South. Comradery bolstered even further by the fact that the North had been victorious against the Boltons that had betrayed it. It felt warm. It screamed of home. It was an affair that Sansa remembered from her childhood as she sat at Rickon’s left. Though now much more fondly instead of longing for the grand courts of the South.

Though the politics and tensions existed of course. Sansa knew that well enough as she surveyed the feasting lords, Ladies, Free Folk and recently arrived black brothers from the head table. They may have been united on returning a Stark to his rightful place in Winterfell but that did not mean there were not plotters among them that wanted some influence over her little brother, soon to be King in the North.

“I don’t think I have ever been to Winterfell with all of the North’s banners present. Lady Stark.” Maester Wolkan said quietly as he gave a short bow to her.

Sansa Stark smiled at the old Maester; her eyes glancing towards an empty chair at her right side. He smiled gratefully as he sat beside her. It was odd to see Wolkan smile. To see him look so calm. Relaxed unlike how he had been under Bolton rule. It was an almost complete shift in temperament. Sansa recognised it well though once the shift had happened. She had done similar in King’s Landing, the Vale and at Winterfell with the Boltons. It showed a man that was smart and more than talented at suiting the roles he needed to be. It screamed of Varys or Baelish in her mind and that had terrified her for a moment when she had first seen the change.

But it didn’t fit where he had been for so long. He’d been in the Dreadfort for decades serving a House that had only become a power in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms recently for all that it had been a power in the North that had tried centuries past to rival House Stark.

It didn’t fit with what he had done either for her. He’d been the one to make sure to give her Moon Tea for all that time. To give her news of her brother before Ramsay could. To call her Lady Stark whenever possible. The one to orchestrate the gates of Winterfell opening for her brothers. None of those acts would warrant him to be an agent of Baelish. Nor of Varys for all that she had no clue what his games were besides not batting an eyelid to her family’s misfortune.

It spoke of loyalty to her and she had no idea what to make of it. Only to keep him close and use him until she could learn more.

 _You aren’t far off lass. He wants you to figure it out. See what your wits are like._ The Northern voice whispered happily.

“I remember feasts like this from my childhood but not quite like this. It is different as a woman grown when one can see the plots and intrigues that surround events like these.” Sansa replied as she took a small sip of Northern ale.

Maester Wolkan nodded in agreement. “It somewhat ruins the occasion, knowing that fact Lady Stark.”

“True, but at the same time if one knows what plots are going on and how to play them to your advantage.” Sansa replied quietly.

Maester Wolkan’s smile grew at that. “I imagine that means you’ve been busy my Lady.”

Sansa confirmed it with a gentle smile. Once she had her reunions with Jon and Rickon, Sansa had been quick to get to work. She had spoken to everyone from servants to the Lords and Ladies seeking to ingratiate themselves with her in order to get a better feel of everyone and anyone in Winterfell. It was something that she could not put off. A lack of awareness of plotters and false friends had hurt Father and Robb. She would not let it happen again.

“It would not do Winterfell well if I wasn’t don’t you think?” Sansa replied lightly.

Wolkan chuckled. “So, what has Lady Stark garnered?”

Sansa took a deep breath as she surveyed the room before gently moving her glass in Lord Ryswell’s direction. “To start quite simply, Lord Ryswell is in perhaps the most uncomfortable position amongst all of the Lords.”

“Aye, it is quite notable considering he has largely kept to his own party unlike the rest of the Northern Lords and Ladies.”

Sansa took a small sip as she looked at the Lord of the Rills. He was celebrating much like the rest of the Lords but among his sons and minor vassals. It was quite apparent that he did not have much connection with the rest of the Northern Lords at this point.

“No surprises in truth due to the connections he had with Lord Roose and the least amount of damage done to his house at the Red Wedding. Though, he is in somewhat of a better position considering he did fight under my brothers for Winterfell.”

“Even if it was it was due to your brother’s persuasion skills.” Wolkan noted with a smirk.

Sansa smirked at that. Persuasion was one way to put it. Taking his army for a short detour into the Rills to _personally and kindly invite_ Lord Ryswell to their cause was a much more accurate. It had made her laugh in private when she had asked her brother how he had managed to get Lord Ryswell’s support. The story had impressed Sansa though. Her brother had continued to show his strength to the Lords he had rallied whilst at the same time offered a way for Lord Ryswell to save some face in the North.

It showed that her brother was a player rather than a pawn in the game. Just like she would be this time around.

“Jon persuading Ryswell in the way he did gives us some leverage. It denied him animosity in the North but showed that he was a Lord whose loyalty was more in question than theirs. He’d not so subtly shown how eager he was to get into the Kingdom of the North’s good graces again when we spoke.” Sansa replied easily.

 _Perfect for us in the short term but we will have to continue to cultivate him more permanently to us._ Sansa noted to herself.

Wolkan smiled approvingly as his gaze shifted towards Lady Dustin as she danced with Lord Cerwyn. “And what of his daughter, Lady Dustin? She’s been much more involved with the Lords than her Father.”

“A better plotter than Lord Ryswell. I couldn’t get close to many of her servants. And she is much better positioned than her Father because she had answered Jon’s call without question. Even if it was for revenge against the man that had killed her nephew.”

‘She doesn’t much like me or Rickon from the conversation I had with her.” Sansa said bluntly as her gaze followed Dustin taking a dance with Robett Glover, a man that had apparently been quick to refer to her as Lady Bolton or Lannister upon meeting Jon and Rickon.

 _Not the only one from what I have heard in Winterfell._ Sansa thought as she looked at the two dancing.

“She is more discreet with her dislike of you than she is of me and fellow maesters.” Wolkan replied quietly.

“What do you know of her relationship with House Stark?” Sansa asked.

“I once overheard Roose Bolton mention Lady Dustin’s disdain for both your Mother and Father. Your mother for being the Tully to wed Brandon and your father for not bringing back Lord Dustin’s bones from the war.” Wolkan offered.

Sansa hummed into her drink. “I think it is more to do with the Tully issue and the South than Father. I couldn’t pick up any malice towards Jon and that was before Ramsay’s death.”

Dustin clearly approved of Jon from what Sansa had seen. She had seemed quite charmed by Jon from Sansa’s perspective. Not besotted or enamoured like some of the younger ladies were that had accompanied the Northern army to Winterfell but more nostalgic and longing. The only hint of distaste towards Jon which Sansa had managed to see was how her brother interacted with both herself and Rickon. Lady Dustin clearly did not like the fact that her and Rickon were present at all.

“Lady Dustin might not like the South and House Tully but I don’t think she’ll have much of a chance of telling anyone that your youngest brother is not of the North.” Wolkan said

That much was true as she looked towards her youngest brother, sitting at the centre of the head table and speaking to Lord Flint of the First Flints who had come up to greet him. Her brother had spent time in multiple places since fleeing Winterfell; having travelled through the North, spending time on Skagos before being smuggled to White Harbour then promptly shifted to Last Hearth so nobody could claim Rickon would be a Southern Stark or that Manderly was going to solely hold onto Rickon for himself. All of that had meant one could hear the North cling on to him just by the way he spoke and the way he acted. And you could see it on him, the more you looked at him you could see the Stark in her brother. The red locks were much muddier than Robb’s. The Blue eyes had specs of grey in the centre. And the face was starting to become longer like Arya’s and Jon’s.

Sansa had emphasised all of that by the tunics and cloak she had made for him. Dark brown furs with the greys and whites of House Stark in the tunic and dominating the cloak. It was kept as plain and simple as possible. Even for the King in the North. He even had the half of Ice strapped to his chair or back whenever in front of the Lords now that the Wolf Pommel had been attached. There was no denying the Northman that was her little brother.

 _But what about the girl that had loved the South above the North and had dreams of being a Southern Princess? She must think me an invader or a Lannister and Bolton._ Sansa thought sadly as she looked at the woman finish her dance with Robett Glover.

 _Prove her wrong._ The voice bluntly commanded.

“The regency is the most important matter right now. Lady Dustin’s plots will only be able to move after the matter when she truly knows where the power lies.” Sansa said calmly as she watched the room start to quieten ever so slightly, eyes turning from the festivities towards the head table and the Throne of Winter.

A throne some wanted to have some say over until Rickon was age. Sansa hadn’t given any thought to the prospect of how the North would be when she first saw the sight of the banners behind Jon and Rickon. She had still been half numb then and the only things she could feel was relief and pleasure that her brothers hadn’t died outside the Walls of their home. But that moment of respite from the Game could only ever be brief.

Yes, the North knew only the King in the North whose name was Stark. There was no talk at all of the North bending to the South. Not even when Stannis was in the North from what she had gathered, only being a potential tool to free the North. But a boy King needed regents and counsel until he was age. And there was no guarantee that the North would simply allow Jon and Sansa to be Rickon’s regents.

Sansa knew well enough her own reasons for being discounted. She was a woman. Something that might have been less of a problem in the North if she had been more like Arya, Aunt Lyanna or her Grandmother Lyarra if the stories of her. But in the eyes of the North; she had spent too long in the South. She had been a hostage and married off twice to both House Lannister and Bolton. It could only have been worse if she had married a Frey. And it could have been much worse if it had only been Rickon present in taking Winterfell. She would have most certainly been married off to whoever had managed put himself in the

Jon though.

Jon was more complex.

There were clearly more arguments in his favour. He was battle-tested from the Wall and had reached the position of Lord Commander. He had proved himself an adept and strategic commander in his retaking of the North and most importantly he knew how to deal with the Northern Lords, having done it on the march to Winterfell and prior to it at the Wall.

But he was also the Northerner that had led the Free Folk South of the Wall. Free Folk that had fought for Jon and for the North. Free Folk that had mingled well with the Lords and Ladies on this night. But there were still suspicions and a discomfort from the Lords and the fact that Jon had wed Alys Karstark off to a Thenn might suggest Jon had more loyalty to the Free Folk than his own

And for Lords like Manderly, Mazin and Whitehall he was still a bastard and potential usurper. They might have been content to have him as King if there was nobody else but a bastard regent was unprecedented. Especially considering the Free Folk only answered to him and he had more than shown his own strength to other houses. Oath breaker might have been an issue if the North hadn’t seen the scars in the yard or whenever he had sparred on the march.

No, nothing was wholly certain but putting the regency firmly in-House Stark’s hand tonight was of the utmost importance Sansa had worked hard alongside Jon to ensure it would be. _It will be ours tonight._ Sansa said to herself as she heard an argument erupt from between Lord Cerwyn and Lyran Mormont.

“The war is over! We need to hunker down now that the Boltons are gone from the North!”

Mormont growled at the young Cley Cerwyn. “The war isn’t over so long as the Freys and Lannisters that killed my sister our King and countless Northmen still live!!”

“The North isn’t ready for it!!!” Cerwyn bellowed.

“You’re a fucking craven Cerwyn!!! You bent the knee to Bolton as soon as he got to Winterfell after butchering our King and kept deathly silent whilst every other Northman plotted and refused to bend” Lyra roared.

Cerwyn turned red. “I fought against his bastard as soon as I knew a Stark was coming. You try and fight against an army larger than yours that was half a day’s ride away!!”

“Enough!!!” Jon shouted from his seat.

The command echoed across the hall, quelling any mutterings and stopping any other Lord or Lady that thought to pick a side. The hall was brought into a complete silence.

Jon stood slowly, his face like carved stone. All eyes were looking solely at him.

“The war is not over Lord Cerwyn and it isn’t likely to be until winter ends. The North remembers far too well to ever

Sansa could hear a few horns of ale and tankards being banged onto the table at that.

‘But winter is here and we will not be marching South. Not while the Others that breathe down all of our necks are up Beyond the Wall.’

The words turned the hall silent again at Jon’s words. Faces of all the Free Folk turning grim. Some even scared. She could even see the darkness on the faces of the Mountain Clans and Umbers that were the closest to the Wall.

“But the Others are long dead.” Lady Eddara Talhart said.

“Probably some wildling trick instead!” Lord Locke bellowed, shooting glares at Tormund.

 _A trick to be proved wrong shortly if those brothers brought what I think they did._ Sansa thought as soon as she saw two black brothers run out of the hall.

Tormund’s grim expression didn’t change as he looked back at Lord Locke. “We don’t need tricks to fight Kneelers. We speak true about the dead.”

Lord Locke sneered. “The words of savages cannot be trusted.”

“The Boltons were savages Lord Locke and it was the Free Folk that fought beside you and every Northman in this room or is your old mind making you forget so quick.” Alys Karstark answered boldly.

Sansa smiled at the woman; Northern to the bone and one of Jon’s key supporters. _A shame Jon had been beholden to his vows when she had come for his aid. She would have made him happy._ Sansa thought as her brother spoke once again, his eyes shifting to the door momentarily before settling on Lord Locke.

“I saw thousands of corpses turn to monsters with the single wave of a hand Lord Locke. They do not eat. They do not sleep and they do not stop.”

Her brother’s words were answered with muffled screams as the two brothers opened the door holding a very clearly decomposing corpse with a bag pulled over its head. _A moving corpse._ Sansa saw with deep dread as the brothers dragged it into the purview of all the North.

The screams worsened as the bag was removed, revealing a rotting head with its visible jawline and bright blue eyes.

Screams coming both from Northerners and the thing itself as it screamed relentlessly. Sansa gripped Rickon’s hand as both looked in horror at the thing that was trying to break free of its chains and the brothers. Nobody seemed unmoved by the sight of them.

All except her brother and the dire wolves. Shaggy was growling powerfully and Ghost had stood from the front of the table to simply staring with those Red eyes. Her brother looked much like Ghost in that moment as he stood in black furs with slight tinges of white dye, black armour emblazoned with the white Direwolf and a cloak to match. Clothes that were like father’s but not quite because of the colouring. They were nods to both Father and the name Jon had made for himself as she had designed for the attire. A less important but obvious showcase that her brother held and wielded power despite his surname being Snow.

She still thought it made Jon more like Father despite her efforts to balance that effect. Though she had heard Maester Wolkan mutter with Lord Umber’s uncles and some of the older Lords that it had made Jon resemble their Grandfather Rickard.

Jon gave a curt nod to the brothers, one shoving the sack back over the monster’s head with force as the other started to drag it out of the hall. Not a single eye didn’t follow them until it had left. All of them turning back to Jon. His own gaze had turned to Lord Locke pointedly before turning to the rest of the Lords.

“The North and the Free Folk will fight together as the First Men. If you don’t then you’re doomed to join the Others.”

Lord Locke looked extremely pale but nodded and sat, clearly shaken by the ordeal like the rest of the hall.

Rickon decided to come to his brother’s aid on Jon’s dark remark.

“The Northmen and Free Folk fought together and won as allies. We will fight together again and win against them!”

The voice was nowhere near as powerful as Jon’s but it echoed all the same. It was still the voice of their King. It got the Mountain Clans to start their own small chants to her brave brother.

“The Rickon, Stark guts through and through!”

“The wee brave Northern King that isnae afraid of the dead!!!”

“The Rickon, bolder than Arya Flint, strong like a mountain!!

Lord Manderly rose gracefully despite his figure. “My King is right. We need to fight together if we are to beat back the dead. But despite your eagerness I am afraid you are too young to lead as fully.”

Sansa touched her brother’s hand gently as he stood. A small gesture but enough to signal her brother to say what she had him rehearse.

“I am aware that I am not yet old enough to fully lead. I hoped to hear advice on how best to proceed with the matter.” Rickon said calmly.

If Sansa hadn’t known how irritated her brother was at the fact that he couldn’t just declare Jon and Sansa his regents, she might not have picked up on the slight bite to his last word.

Manderly did not seem to care for the bite, clearly pleased that the matter of the regency was open.

“I would propose a regency council my King. It would be the best way to give you the most advice and assure stability across the North.”

Sansa could hear murmurings of support from Robett Glover, Lady Dustin, Lord Cerwyn and some of Manderly’s vassals. All that would support Manderly at the head of a council.

 _But that was to be expected._ Sansa thought with a smile as she watched Hugo Wull rise loudly from his chair, his belly smashing at the table and his bellow echoing across the Hall.

“Spit on a regency Council Manderly! We only need one to act as a regent for The Rickon when the dead are upon us! Any more and we’re just going to bicker like in your court!”

The Mountain clansmen all laughed heartily at that. Manderly didn’t seem bothered though as he smiled.

“But a single regent will so discord among the Lords. Better a council and none can say one is vying for power.”

“It would give our King the chance to be even more acquainted with all the North he will rule alone one day.” Lady Dustin added curtly.

Wull scoffed. “Piss! Complete piss! You’re all just going to try play the Rickon off each other!”

“A load of shite for when the dead march towards us!!!” Duncan Liddle roared.

“I won’t tolerate my kin being used like a fucking pawn!!” Lord Artos Flint bellowed.

Sansa held back her smile at the Mountain Lords. The Mountain clans were the most fiercely loyal Lords of the North she had ever met. Loyal to her Father’s memory and respected strength of conviction and arms. They’d been the first that Sansa had asked to speak in favour of a single regent. Of Jon as regent. It hadn’t taken much either. Just reaffirmation of Jon’s promise to have their people in Wintertown as always and a reminder of Jon’s strength. All things that didn’t need any real reminding of. She just needed them to be the one to get the idea of a single regent bluntly onto the board as soon as possible.

“And you’d propose yourself as regent for your kin Flint by virtue of his great grandmother?!” Robett shot back.

Flint just laughed at the heir to Deepwood Motte as Alys Karstark rose once again. “He doesn’t need his Great Grandmother’s blood when he has his brother right beside him! Jon is our Lord regent!!!”

Jon’s most indebted supporter. The obvious one to declare for him and the one that had to be first. She had control of a powerful house but the sway was somewhat limited in sway due to her marriage and clear connections to Jon.

It would not have tipped the North into their favour at the end of this.

Lord Flint cheered, “The Karstark has the right of it!” Pointing out the fucking obvious that it should be The Jon!!!”

“He’s the wolf that led us to victory and took back the North.” Rodrick Forrester bellowed as he downed a horn.

The Mountain clans and a large number of Galbert Glover’s vassals, who owed Jon for removing the Iron Born, banged their tankards into the table in support as they started to chant.

“The Jon!!!”

“The Jon!!!”

“The Jon!!!”

Manderly shook his head. “With all due respect to Jon Snow, he may have led us well in arms but he has much less Lordly training than one would need for ruling the North.”

 _Smart to not outright say bastard. Shaggy would have moved too dangerously close to you._ Sansa thought darkly before turning her gaze to Lord Ryswell as a servant gently knocked his shoulder.

The Lord stood up immediately. “Bullshit Lord Manderly and you know it. You know as well as I do that Ned Stark wouldn’t have raised any of his sons without teaching them Lordly duties. Even if it was for the Watch in Jon’s case.”

Sansa wanted to grin she heard the mutters from Talhart and Cerwyn admitting to remembering Ned Stark had the young Jon sit in some hearings with Robb. Others at the fact Jon was one of the youngest Lord Commanders of the Watch in centuries.

Manderly held his ground though despite the mutterings that were going around in the hall. “Fair points but that does not equate to the years of experience a council would bring to King Rickon.”

“A council doesn’t matter though if we listen to King Robb’s Will!!” Maege Mormont boomed proudly.

It brought the Hall to a slightly confused silence. Some knew of Robb’s will, mainly those that had signed it and had been campaigning with him, including Galbart, Maege and the Great Jon Umber. Those that were in the North or had not been with Robb’s army near the Crag did not. Lord Manderly being one of those that clearly did not know by the confused stare that had finally come upon the man. It had only been revealed to Jon at the Motte in private before he requested it be kept quiet.

Sansa had made sure it would be brought up.

“The Young Wolf made a Will?” Lady Dustin asked hesitantly, disdain.

Maege Mormont grinned. “Aye, King Robb’s orders in the event that he should fall. We were to guard and keep it hidden until necessary.”

 _Why so few and not even Galbart’s brother had heard of it._ Sansa thought with amusement as she watched the master of Deepwood Motte take out the parchment and begin to read the last written words of her brother.

“I, Robb Stark, King in the North, given the current state of the realm and the deaths of my brothers Bran and Rickon, hereby declares his succession for the North. I Hereby declare with a heavy heart that my sister Sansa Stark must be stripped off her inheritance to prevent the North from falling into House Lannister’s hands now that she has been wed to Lord Tyrion Lannister. I hereby strike Arya Stark from the succession due to her assumed status as a hostage of the Southern Crown. In the event that she is returned to the North unmarried to our enemies, her status in the succession will be restored behind my heirs.

As of now, I have no sons or daughters. No heirs. Given this situation, I hereby declare that my brother Jon Snow be legitimised as Jon Stark and declared my heir until I sire sons and heirs of my own. By Royal proclamation under the Old Gods, I release him from his vows at the Night’s Watch. As many men as needed will be given if the Watch refuses to release my brother. If they refuse the offer of men for the Wall then force will be used. In the event that I die without sons, he will be immediately declared Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. In the event that I die with sons and heirs too young to rule, my brother Jon will serve as their Lord Regent until they are of age. In the event of Arya’s return if she were unmarried, my brother’s position in the succession will be above that of Arya as a trueborn son’s right. It will not be tolerated if my bannermen disrespect these decrees.

May the North win all battles and wars to come. And should I die before seeing my brother again, know that this is how I have always seen you. As my trueborn brother who knows Winterfell and the North like every Stark before us and after us.”

It wasn’t the first time that Sansa and Jon had read that will. Jon had read it enough on the march and Sansa had read it repeatedly upon seeing it until she knew every word that might be twisted against her family. It still made her want to cry to hear the last words of her brother. Even if it was somewhat damning to her because of her past position as a hostage.

“Robb’s last decree holds little value for us considering King Rickon is alive and well.” One of Manderly’s vassals said slowly.

It was met with a slight glare by Manderly at the Ashwood. _He knows that a regency is much less likely now._

Maege Mormont was the first to speak with a low growl. “Rickon might not be King’s Robb’s son but as expected but his heir and one too young to lead. That’s clear to me that the Young Wolf wanted Jon Stark as his regent.”

“The she-bear has the right of it. King’s Robb’s Will holds and Jon is the Lord Regent to the King in the North.” Galbart agreed firmly.

It was met with more banging of tankards. This time much louder.

“Would it not be wise to reconsider the Will though given the Lady Sansa’s less certain position?” Cerwyn asked.

“The Will makes it clear that she is out of the succession due to her marriage remaining to the Imp.” Mormont said bluntly.

“A marriage ignored by the Boltons because it was under Southern Gods. And now that her husband by the Old Gods is dead, the Lady can revert to her title of birth. It would give her a claim to act as regent for Rickon.”

And every Lord in the North would seek her marriage to become Lord regent and steal that power. A thought she could see on a few of the Lords, particularly the younger ones or the older ones with sons her age. She imagined well enough that a lot of the smarter and older Lords than Cley would have already thought ahead of it. They just hadn’t planned on saying it out loud and let slip the obvious connotations. Lucky for her that Cley Cerwyn had been foolish enough to think it a good idea to bring it out in the open. _Even if one of the guards had spoken of it around him idly._ Sansa thought as the comment got the outrage as expected.

“What so you can marry her and take the regency yourself?!!” Alsyanne Mormont roared as she shot out of her seat.

It was followed swiftly by Lord Flint and Wull who had both come storming towards the young Lord. It was only stopped by Ghost and Shaggy coming between the them to stop it. Ghost looking silently at the Mountain clansmen and Shaggy growling darkly at Cley Cerwyn, turning his face a rare shade of white.

Sansa took that as her time to stand and speak as the two groups backed off and the wolves moved away. “I’m sure Lord Cerwyn simply meant to be kind to me and show that despite the circumstances my name is Stark and nothing else.”

She shot the young Lord a smile and curtsy as the two wolves lingered around her before returning to their masters.

“But the Will makes it quite clear of my position in the succession. Even if one were to disregard my forced marriage to House Lannister, a marriage still not annulled in the eyes of the South and could be used against us, my position would most likely revert to Arya’s as an unmarried Stark behind both Jon and Rickon. It would be best for the North for my status in the line of succession to remain removed.”

And with that she smiled politely and took her seat once again, leaving the Lords to a moment of silence. She would not be used as a tactic for division in House Stark. It would be ill fitting for the Lady of Winterfell to allow that kind of attempt. Let them think her confined to that role until Rickon weds as a man grown.

“ _This only gives them two options. The regency Council or Jon.”_ Sansa whispered quietly to Wolkan as they watched the hall. She knew there was more support for Jon in the room. But the Regency Council was backed by Lords with influence and very much represented a plot prior to Jon’s departure from the Wall. A plot that needed to be broken completely.

 _And a Giant breaking from his chains does that perfectly._ Sansa thought whilst the Great Jon Umber decided he’d had enough of all of this, his hulking figure causing the table to shake as he spoke. _Or boomed to be more accurate._

“I’ve had enough of this shite!!! The course is fucking clear my Lords and Ladies and you all know it!!!!”

At that the hulking Lord unsheathed his Great Sword and slammed it into the ground of the Hall. All the Lords looking intently at the single Lord that had managed to break free from his capture at the twins and make his way back to Last Hearth with nothing but a sword and stolen horse. The Lord that had declared Robb King in the North first. The Lord that Manderly had planned to make commander of the Northern army if he supported the Regency Council, garnering him one of the larger houses in the North alongside Manderly. Sansa could see Manderly wanting to know how this would go.

“We fought and bled with the White Wolf! HE SHOWED HIS GUTS AND FUCKED THE IRON BORN AND BOLTON CUNTS ALIKE!!!!”

‘Just like his brother did in the South until he was Betrayed and I’ll be a damned traitor if I don’t obey my King’s last decree!!!!”

“I STAND BEHIND JON STARK AS THE LORD REGENT TO THE KING IN THE NORTH!!!!!” The Great Jon Umber roared as he bent his knee in front of the head table.

Sansa Stark smiled with complete satisfaction as she watched Manderly sigh before sitting and smiling as if it were an outcome he actually wanted. _He knows well enough when to concede._ Sansa thought as she gave a gentle touch to Rickon, motioning him to stand.

Her brother stood calmly and turned to Jon; a smile plastered across her little brother’s face. “I think the North has made it clear that they wish to see you as Lord Regent until I am of age. Will you accept the duty Jon Snow?”

Rickon offered his hand out to her brother who was sitting. Jon gripped it firmly. “I accept my King.”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!” The Lords and Ladies of the North roared as one by one they all unsheathed their swords and pledged their fealty to Rickon.

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!”

It was a powerful chant to hear and a one made by all the Northern Lords. Not a soul from the Regency Council would go against that proclamation. They wanted a King in the North just as much as the rest of them. It was only the Free Folk that did not chant for the King in the North. _But they are unquestionably loyal to Jon and the chiefs here are smart enough to know Jon has to strike the balance and play the kneeler games._ Sansa thought as she could hear a few of them close by chanting “The Jon” to themselves.

“It is good to see the North put to rights again.” Maester Wolkan said quietly to her as the chants dominated the hall.

“It is but there is always work to be done to ensure that the North stays to rights.” Sansa replied calmly.

Ensuring the supporters of a Council remaining firmly behind Jon was one thing to be done. But Sansa and Jon had plans for that. _And Baelish is coming. The North must stay to rights_

Wolkan chuckled. “I heard your Grandfather Rickard say that once.”

Sansa raised her eyebrow at the man. _You’re close lass._ The Northern voice whispered

“I’m afraid I did not know my Grandfather. Father did not speak of him too much.” Sansa replied as the chants continued to get louder and the drink beginning to flow all the more, Jon and Rickon going down to join the Lords and Ladies.

“Much like I did not know your Father all that well other than what the Lords and servants say. It is why I always find much more of your Grandfather in both you and Jon speak and behave.” Maester Wolkan

“And how would that be?” Sansa asked the old man who was smiling quite genuinely at her.

“Hard people. Firm and unflinching. Rational and cold when you need to be. More than aware of the politics that comes with Lordship. And clear strategies for the future.” Maester Wolkan said proudly.

“As players to put it simply.” Sansa finished for the man.

Wolkan smiled at that. “Exactly my Lady.”

“You knew my Grandfather quite well it seems. I suppose that would be necessary if you were to be one of his spies.” Sansa said confidently.

 _Good wolf._ The Northern voice said happily.

Wolkan nodded as the chants turned to celebrations. “I got to know him well as Lord Stark did me. Rickard chose to take time to know those he might use to keep tabs on Lords. Especially for one to go to the dreadfort.”

_A shame circumstances led Grandfather to die. He might have been able to tell Father what he had at his disposal. It would have stopped Roose long before he could ever do anything to hurt our family._

“You speak of Grandfather as quite an adept Lord but I know he died to the flames.” Sansa pointed out.

She could not let death come for any of them by their enemies.

Wolkan sighed there. “He loved his Pack and the true depths of the Madness of the Mad King was kept quite hidden until it happened. Your Grandfather would have done otherwise had he been able to know those facts.”

“So, for us to be better prepared we must surpass our Grandfather.” Sansa stated.

_Good lass._

Wolkan smiled. “Aye, it would but I am confident of that much from the both of you.”

“And would an old Stark man be willing to help?” Sansa asked quietly.

Wolkan grinned. “With pleasure Lady Stark.”

Sansa smiled back at him as her eldest brother came back to the head table with a small smile on his face.

“Would you care to dance?” Jon asked kindly, offering his hand.

Sansa beamed and took it. “Very much so brother. I have missed dancing with family.”

 _Let them see us a united pack. And let Baelish see we have our own agents._ Sansa thought as an old Northern jig began to play through the Hall.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!!! Changed my mind and saving Baelish for the Jon Chapter which will be next. It will also answer some other questions from this one. Like the dreadfort for example and making sure Manderly is very happy.
> 
> I wanted to show here that although the Northern conspiracy stands there is still things the Lords and Ladies might want to gain some influence over a boy King. Great Jon Umber was one of them to an extent.  
> You'll learn more of Umber from Jon's perspective on that issue. Would rather write it than tell you in the end note hahaha


End file.
